


It Had To Be You

by ChaosPrincessKit



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Temporary Character Death, end fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-19
Updated: 2013-08-19
Packaged: 2017-12-23 23:47:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaosPrincessKit/pseuds/ChaosPrincessKit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lydia was supposed to be Stiles' anchor, but Derek is the only one that can bring him back. 3x11 AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Had To Be You

The ice baths were ready, the people in place. Scott had wanted Derek to be there (and Stiles did to, though he really wouldn’t admit that), but the man was too involved with watching over his sister. That was something that Stiles could totally understand because, man, it’s FAMILY. If anyone knew the importance of family, it was the three of them, about to take this stupid plunge. Family was all they had left really. Everyone had been paired with an anchor. Lydia with Stiles, Isaac with Allison and Deaton with Scott. Sure, it made sense, kinda of. Stiles would have thought that Lydia would have gone with Allison and Isaac would have gone with Scott, but really…he had no emotional connection to Deaton so that wouldn’t do. He locked eyes with Lydia and smiled hesitantly. She returned it grimly and shrugged at him. 

"Are we ready?" Deaton asked quietly. 

A collective gulp went through the three sacrifices and shakily, each stepped next to a tub. Stiles gripped his father’s badge tightly as he dipped his leg into the water, wanting immediately to retract it. It was so cold that it actually burned. His body followed quickly after his leg, eyes squeezed shut tightly, chanting to himself to just keep going and to not think about it. Picturing his father’s face in his mind because it was all for him and anything was worth that. He was short of breath and shivering now. The shock to his system was horrifying and his body wasn’t getting used to the new temperature at all, in fact, it felt like it was getting colder. His skin was puckered and tight. He was also pretty sure his balls had retracted firmly into his stomach. His dick had to be the size of a pin head right now. Why was he even thinking about that? Oh my God, Stiles, get a grip, this is serious business right now. He shook his head slowly, his teeth chattering, his fingers gripping the sides of the tub. They were starting to turn blue and he was starting to go numb. It was now or never. 

"One…Two…Three," Deaton slowly counted down and Stiles swore with every number, his heart raced more frantically. He was scared. His mouth was dry and his chin trembled, not from cold, but from holding back tears. He had to keep reminding himself that this was the only way. This _had_  to happen. 

He felt his shoulders being pushed down and helped Lydia by sliding down into the water. She held him there and he squeezed his eyes shut again. He didn’t want to see her face while he died, he didn’t want to see anything. He tried to stay as relaxed as possible, the coldness in the water making him rather lethargic anyway. His chest burned and he couldn’t breath. He needed to breath. He knew the sooner he sucked in the ice cold water, the sooner it would be over and he wouldn’t have to feel this anymore. This…this pressing darkness and icy chill that had nothing to do with the water and more to do with the rapidly approaching stop of his heart. He could feel each heavy thud and his fingers tightened around the edges of the tub, but he didn’t struggle. He didn’t want to make this any harder for Lydia than it already was. He couldn’t take it anymore. His heart was beating desperately, his lungs aching and slowly he was releasing the air he had stored there, deflating them, making them burn less but diminishing his oxygen supply. He needed to take that breath. He needed it to be over. He could feel tears in his eyes now, mixing with the water, scalding his face with the temperature difference. He opened his mouth and deeply inhaled the ice cold water into his lungs. He choked. He struggled to breath this time and choked again, sucking in more and more water.

—-

Lydia quickly let go when the struggling stopped, bringing her hands up to her mouth and letting out a loud sob as she backed away from the tub until her back hit the wall. She slid down until she was sitting and dropped her head onto her knees, feeling each twisted sobs that escaped from her chest and each one hurt, like a piece of her heart had been taken with it. Someone was trying to comfort her. Isaac. She looked up at him, eyes red and bloodshot, mascara running wild. He eyes looked suspiciously red as well. She didn’t think twice before throwing herself into him arms and using him for support as she cried her heart out into his chest. He held on tightly, almost too tight with his Werewolf strength and just sat there. He didn’t try to murmur comforting words to her, he didn’t tell her everything would be ok. Which was good, because nothing was ok. They’d just killed three of their best friends. Nothing was ever going to be ok about that. 

"How long?" Lydia finally asked, her voice broken as she looked around to Deaton. 

"Three minutes," he said firmly. "Then we need to bring them back, after six minutes…" he trailed off.

"That’s all the time we have?" she asked faintly. 

"There is a better survival chance because of the cold," Deaton assured her, "that allows for a bigger window, but not a much bigger window." 

"How much of a bigger window?" Isaac demanded, his arms still around Lydia’s shoulders. 

Deaton sighed and checked his watched, briefly looking over to the three blue teens floating the tubs before averting his eyes. “The longest has been around forty minutes. The colder the water the better, but chances like that are slim.” 

Lydia shuddered, burying her face against Isaac’s shoulder again. She couldn’t even look at the tubs. She didn’t even want to think about what was about to happen. She was trying to be strong for her friends but…God, this was so fucked up. She was only seventeen for God’s sake! She should be worrying about mid-terms and what she was going to wear to the fall formal. Not how she was going to help revive one of her best friends who she’d helped drown in the first place. This was so fucked up. 

"Ok, it’s time," Deaton told them. 

They wasted no time in running to their respective tubs and hauling out the body within. Lydia struggled with the dead weight, but Stiles was, thankfully, not a very built person and she managed to get him over the edge and onto the floor. She tipped his head back and plugged his nose, putting her lips to his and blowing air into his lungs a couple times before sitting up and pumping his chest with her hands. She counted. When there was no response, she went back to his lips and then back to his chest. She counted again. Still no response. She heard Allison choke across the room and looked up briefly to see her best friend roll over and puke up ice water, shivering violently. Isaac wrapped her in blankets and rubbed her shoulders fiercely, talking quietly to her. Lydia went back to Stiles’ lips, then back to his chest. She counted each push. Still no response. 

"Come on, come on," she whimpered as she heard Scott start choking up water as well. "Please, Stiles,  _please_ , come on!” 

She started to go back for his lips when suddenly, her head shot up and she let out a piercing, wailing scream. It reverberated around the entire room, shaking a couple vials and echoing loudly. She knew it was the type of scream that would have carried around town. It was a Banshee scream. Isaac whipped around to face her, eyes wide, face quickly draining of color. He looked from her to Stiles, who was still laying motionless on the floor. Lydia let out a cry and buried her face into Stiles’ cold chest, gripping his shirt in her fists.

"Please," her voice wavered, thick with tears, "please,  _I’m sorry_ , please come back.” 

—-

Derek was sitting next to his sister, guilt twisting his insides. He could still hear Isaac’s words reverberating in his head and no matter how much he tried to pretend like it didn’t faze him, it had. _'Scott and Stiles were out there trying to save people's lives while you were in here rolling around in the sheets with the killer!'_  He could still hear it. The accusation. The completely correct accusation. He couldn’t do anything about it now. Not with Cora being so ill. She was shaking in the bed, each breath a painful gasp. She was dying. His little sister was dying and he couldn’t do a damn thing but help take some of her pain. 

Something was off about tonight. Something didn’t feel right and he couldn’t put his mind at rest. Sitting here with Cora, hoping she got better, watching over her, it just didn’t feel right. Like there was a bigger picture he was missing. Like he was losing something. It was the same feeling he’d gotten the night of the fire. The same night he’d been too late to do anything. The same night he’d been responsible for. What the hell was happening out there right now? He rubbed his forehead, massaging his temples and sighed. He needed to stay with Cora. She needed him here. 

Derek’s head shot up as he heard the echo’s of a very familiar scream. A chilling scream. “Lydia…” he whispered to himself with a frown. He felt terror grip him. He  _needed_  to be there, where ever she was, for whatever reason, he  _needed_  to be there. He just knew it. “Peter!” He called his Uncle, “I need you to watch over Cora…” 

He only waited until Peter had practically glided into the room before he was rushing out the door, slamming it behind him and just running. He was following his gut and it seemed to know exactly where to go. 

—-

Lydia was frantic. She blew air into Stiles’ lungs and then pushed as hard as she could on his chest, tears streaming down her face. “PLEASE!” she begged, each breath she took staggered and heavy, using all of her force to try and make Stiles’ heart start beat again. “Please, please,  _please_. God, this can’t be happening. Please don’t let this be happening.  _Oh God_ …” she sobbed brokenly, but continued to preform CPR. This HAD to work, it just had to. 

She was startled as the door was flung open so hard that the little window in it shattered against the wall. She jumped back and was met with the startling and intensely furious eyes of Derek Hale. “What the hell is going on?” he hissed, eyes drawn to the pale, tinged blue and obviously not breathing form of Stiles. 

"Sacrifices," she gasped out, bringing a hand to her mouth to try and stem the flow of her fear and her tears. "They were going to take the place of their parents as sacrifices. I was supposed to be able to bring him back! I was his anchor!" Allison was quietly crying in the corner, her and Scott huddled together for warmth and comfort as they watched. Both lethargic and sore from the cold and the dying. Isaac was pacing, running his hands furiously through his hair every couple of seconds, eyes wide and wild. Deaton looked grim. Lydia was still frantic. "I have to do it! I have to bring him back!" 

Derek was shaking his head, a sour and disapproving look on his face, but his eyes were pained. “Move,” he instructed her, not bothering to wait as he dropped down next to the body. “Come on, Stiles,” he said, using his hands to compress the boy’s chest. “We need you, don’t give up now.” There was a few agonizing seconds pause and then Derek glared, “ _STILES_ ,” he was using his Alpha timber and Isaac stopped pacing to stare. “Wake up!” he insisted, shaking the boy a little bit, compressing his chest a couple more time. 

"You need to breath into his lungs, he needs air!" Lydia told him impatiently, hands twitching as though she either wanted to strangle him or knock him upside the back of the head. 

Derek froze for a split second before lowering his mouth to Stiles’. He tilted his head back, plugged Stiles’ nose and blew as much air as he possibly could, letting his lips linger for probably more than they should have. Stiles’ lips were impossibly cold and Derek somehow had the strange idea that he needed to warm them back up. He took a deep breath and blew again. One hand was on the back of Stiles’ head, the other was cupping his chin, keeping his head tilted. He unconsciously rubbed his thumb across his jawline, as he leaned back. He put his hands back on Stiles’ chest and pushed. Once. Twice…

Stiles coughed. Choked really. Water came pouring out of the side of his mouth and Derek quickly rolled him over on his side as his stomach heaved and emptied it’s ice cold contents. He watched him intently, looking for any sign of damage or pain. 

Stiles sucked in air over and over again, relishing in the fact that he could actually breath again. His head hurt, there was a lot of pressure in his temples and behind his eyes. He was cold and his body just wouldn’t stop shaking. He forced his head to look up, expecting to meet Lydia’s eyes, except she wasn’t there. Instead, he found himself looking at the rather intense and relieved eyes of Derek Hale. Wait…what the fuck? What as he even doing here? There was just no way possible someone had had time to go fetch him while he was dead. Unless…He looked around the room. Scott and Allison were in the corner, cuddled up in a shit ton of blanket, both wide eyed and crying. Isaac was staring at him like he was a ghost. Lydia was backed against the wall, hands pressed against her mouth to stifle the sound of her sobs. Derek was still staring at him. “You…?” 

"Yes," he responded, never one for overly large sentences. 

"Lydia?" He looked over at her. 

"I tried…" her voice cracked tearfully, "I tried I just…couldn’t. I’m sorry, I’m  _so_  sorry.” 

"Nah, it’s alright…no worries," he assured her, through chattering teeth. Grateful when Isaac dropped several blankets around his shoulders. He huddled down, trying to create some kind of body warmth. He looked back at Derek. "How?" 

"I heard Lydia’s scream…" he shrugged. "I knew something wasn’t right. I needed to be here." 

Stiles gave him a kind of cheeky smile. “Thanks. But the next time your mouth is on mine, I better be awake,” he joked. 

Derek gave him a kind of stunned look for a moment, hesitating for only a second before he swept the boy into his arms and against his chest, crushing their lips together. As they pulled apart, Derek gave his own cheeky smile. “Better?” 

Stiles stared at him in shock. “You almost killed me again,” he accused, “I nearly had a heart attack.” 

Derek’s deep chuckle reverberated around the room.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry, I have no beta. Just after midnight plot bunnies that want to become drabbles lol. Thanks for reading!


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